


Maybe stay away from crazy towns?

by Callmepapi



Series: *-Jaskier-whump-week-* [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blindfolds, Broken Bones, Crying, Cults, Dehydration, Exhaustion, Fever, Food Poisoning, Force-Feeding, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier Whump Week (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Sacrifice, Starvation, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmepapi/pseuds/Callmepapi
Summary: Part 5 of the Jaskier whump week - SacrificesIn the centre of the village was a large stand, small enough that people could see everything atop it. Screwed to the wooden stand was an old pillory, splintered and covered in rusty metal, and Jaskier took a good guess that that was where he was going to spend the next two weeks.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: *-Jaskier-whump-week-* [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848163
Comments: 2
Kudos: 190
Collections: Jaskier Whump Week





	Maybe stay away from crazy towns?

**Author's Note:**

> This was one took effort to write and I’m not really sure I like it that much lol. But, anyway here it is, day five. If you enjoy it I would love for you leave a comment as I do very much love reading them lol ; )
> 
> I tagged as rape/non con cause the guy was pulling at jaskier’s underwear, not too sure if that counts but just in case to stay on the safe side.

Jaskier didn't  _ mean _ to get them into this. It wasn't like he  _ knew _ the entire town was involved in a cult. 

The town was welcoming, warm and even let them stay at the inn for free, only asking for a night of music from his bardic skills. Geralt was suspicious, but isn’t he always? Jaskier had laughed it off, “it’s fine Geralt, relax for once!”

Oh. Maybe he should have listened to Geralt after all.

It started when they were both pulled from their beds in the night, blindfolded and dragged somewhere else. Somewhere colder, from what Jaskier could tell. Geralt had been there too, Jaskier could hear his grunts and who else communicates like that?

They must have been in some sort of cell. The floor was damp and almost slimy, it was cold, freezing, and Jaskier was sure that if it weren’t for the blindfold he would be able to see his breath clear as day. There was some rustling, some clanking, then his blindfold had been ripped off and Jaskier winced as his hair got pulled with it. It was dark, and his eyes took a second to adjust to his new environment.

“Sinners!” Hissed a voice in the room. It was a woman and she sounded kinda pissed. Jaskier thought for a second; did he sleep with her, her daughter, her  _ husband _ ? No, he’d never been to this town in his life.

“You go through the trouble of tying us both up and calling us a name, are you going to let us go now?” Geralt spoke up. Jaskier turned his head and saw, in the opposite corner of the room, Geralt shackled to the wall, hands behind his back. Come to think of it, jaskier’s hands were quite uncomfor- oh look, he’s shackled too.

“You  _ sinners!  _ Come into our town and play your sinful songs and speak your wicked words. Filling their heads with impure thoughts!” She said.

“Jaskier what did you play?” Geralt asked, casually.

“Fishmonger’s daughter?” He replied.

“Ah,” said Geralt, “ma’am, you must  _ excuse _ the bard. He’s… often excited and likes to sing about getting laid any way he can.” The woman paced between them in a frantic way, shaking her head.

“Impure, wrong. Profane! You must be cleansed. Yes. Two weeks. Both of you, yes.” Another figure entered the room and although it was dark, Jaskier could see that they were a lot taller than the woman. He placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

“Only one of them, Mary. We only need one to set an impression, remember?” He said.  _ ‘Mary’ _ nodded and left the room in a hurry. The man came forward and crouched down to their level.

“You have to be cleansed, it is the way of our village. Cleansed of any sins that you bring from  _ other  _ places. I will let you decide who.” His voice was unnaturally calm considering their situation. Jaskier looked at Geralt, he shook his head at him and Geralt frowned.

“Me. Take me,” said Geralt. Jaskier shouted.

“No! You can’t!” He said. The man looked at him, one eyebrow raised in question, “He’s a witcher. Whatever you do won’t work on him. I’m human… so take me.”

“Jaskier, stop!” Geralt shouted.

“No! Geralt, I won’t let them take you.”

“I can survive it Jaskier, you may not-”

“No, no. He’s right,” the voice spoke up, “We won’t work on you if it’s not going to do anything. Right, bard it is. Come on, let’s get you ready. Mary!” The door opened and Mary entered along with two burly men. They got Jaskier unshackled and dragged him away from Geralt and through a door until he was outside.

In the centre of the village was a large stand, small enough that people could see everything atop it. Screwed to the wooden stand was an old pillory, splintered and covered in rusty metal, and Jaskier took a good guess that  _ that _ was where he was going to spend the next two weeks.

“Undress,” the man said. Jaskier scoffed but when the man gave him a stern look he complied. He took off his doublet then his chemise and his trousers until he was left shivering in his small-clothes. If there was one thing to be thankful for it was that they allowed him to keep his underwear on during the ordeal.

“Hands and head.” They instruct. Jaskier complies and soon he’s kneeling inside the pillory.

“Anything else? Plan to take me from behind too? I wouldn’t be too adverse to an audience” He says, winking at the men.

“Hmm,” the man smiles, “ this device is very old and if you pull too hard it may break. An easy escape for some. So, Symon is going to make sure you can’t leave.” Jaskier heard the man’s footsteps walk away and heavier ones replace him. He waited, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen, until his vision went white and he screamed. His nerves burned and his body shook, he felt like his feet had been left to freeze then smashed into tiny pieces. Then it happened again, to his other foot and Jaskier couldn’t help but sob as he felt his broken bones grind together.

“There, have you eaten today?” Jaskier sobbed as the man talked to him, his head hung low in the pillory and his tears dropped to the floor. The man kicked his ankle and Jaskier screamed once more.

“Have you eaten,” he asked, voice more stern since Jaskier ignored him before. Jaskier shook his head and whimpered.

“N- no!” The man then left but quickly returned in front of Jaskier, crouching to his knees with a plate and a cup. On the plate was a single slice of bread, which had obvious blue patches of mould, and the cup, which he hoped was water, was rusty and dirty.

“Eat and drink, you’ll have this meal once a day for these two weeks.” He said, Jaskier whimpered from the pain, which still continued to burn and he tried his very best not to shake or jerk his limbs.

“But… the bread, it’s mouldy?” He said. The man’s face pinched and Jaskier suddenly got the notion that he should stop speaking.

“It’s this or nothing at all, now eat!” Jaskier reluctantly opened his mouth and sighed as the man brought the bread up, moldiest side first, and fed him the food.

~*~

The floorboards creaked in Geralt’s room at the inn. He was pacing back and forth, and been all night ever since they brought him back. Without Jaskier. 

At least they had the decency to give him a front facing window, although maybe that wasn’t for the best as Geralt had to watch, and hear, them as they shattered his bard’s ankles. The door opened and the woman, Mary, entered.

“He’ll be there for two weeks. We’ve got food sorted, and water, and there’s plenty of monsters in these woods for you to kill in the meantime. We’ll pay you accordingly. If you refuse, we can always make it two months, though no ones ever survived that long here.” Geralt grumbled but nodded, Mary continued.

“Don’t start thinkin’ about saving him, we’ve got an archer watching him all day and night. Anyone makes a move on him and they’re dead, the boy first.” Geralt nods again, huffing through his nose as she speaks. Mary nods then leaves, Geralt noting the open door as she leaves.

Better get started on those contracts, he thinks.

~*~

If Jaskier had learned anything about being with Geralt, it was that food poisoning was  _ not _ fun. Three times in his life has he had food poisoning and each were equally terrible. Once when he was a boy and he ate a rotten apple as a dare, once with Geralt after he ate some wild mushrooms whilst the Witcher was on a hunt, he was so sure they were the safe ones. And now, after a few days of eating nothing but blue bread and dirty water.

Here he is, stuck in this stand, the winter winds nipping his bare skin and his stomach gurgling in distress. He felt nauseous and odd, too hot but it was winter, he should be cold. His head hurt, throbbed, and his ankles pulsed with a deep ache that was very painful.

His face was covered in sticky, rotten tomato juice and he could feel a bruise on his forehead from when someone had thrown an apple at him, or was it a potato? They had placed a cloth over his eyes now, and he was partly thankful as now he didn’t have to see the looks people sent him as they walked by, or when people just stopped to stare at him like some kind of exotic bird.

His stomach rolled and he threw up. Bile and mushy old bread spilling onto the ground below him as he gagged and coughed. Food poisoning, he thought, a bitch. He grimaced and winced as his stomach cramped in protest and he threw up again, wrists jerking in their restrictions. His ankles burned as he twitched but he couldn’t help it, body spasming with the nausea.

Eventually, it stopped. His head still throbbed and gods, he was thirsty but the mere thought of putting anything in his mouth made his stomach groan. He just wanted this to end. He wanted Geralt back.

~*~

When the first week was over they allowed Geralt to comfort his friend. A white flag was signaled to the archer and Geralt had rushed to kneel next to the sickly bard.

“Jaskier! Fuck, Jaskier, can you hear me?” He asked. Jaskier’s eyes were closed and he stank of sweat and vomit. The bard moaned and furrowed his brows under the blindfold as Geralt’s deep voice pounded in his head.

“Mnh, fuck… Ger’lt. M’ head… s’hurts, stomach…” he moaned. Geralt turned to their captors.

“Don’t you have any medicine you can give him?!” He asked, well, shouted. The captors shook their heads and gave him a reassuring smile.

“This is supposed to happen. His body is purging itself of it’s sins. Your friend will be well very soon.” Geralt growled and stood up, poking a finger in the captors chest as Jaskier continued to moan behind them.

“The only thing he’s doing is getting sick. Of course he’s going to throw up if you’re feeding him spoiled food!” The captor’s mouth drew to a tight line and an angered expression painted their face.

“Your  _ friend _ is fine! There is only one more week to wait, witcher.”

~*~

The moon was high in the sky and an icy frost covered the grass. Geralt watched from the stables as a group of drunks stumbled their way down the path and towards the town square.

At the pillory Jaskier shivered and moaned. He’d thrown up more since Geralt had seen him but their captors continued to feed him the moldy bread and rancid water, believing his sickness to be their god’s work. Geralt shook his head as he went back to brushing roach’s mane, the only activity that seemed to keep him calm in their unfortunate situation.

“I know girl, I know. We’ll be out of here soon,” he said.

The drunk men stumbled, climbing the stand under the pillory and laughing with each other as they tripped and fell about. Eventually they all managed to climb up and, with beer bottles in hand, nudged the sleeping bard. Jaskier mumbled deliriously and shivered. The men laughed and one decided to pour the contents of his beer down jaskier’s back making him whine and jerk back, shivering, blinded and too feverish to understand what was happening. The liquid only made the icy chill of the night even colder and Jaskier shivered as the wind nipped at his skin.

One of the laughing men grabbed jaskier’s hair and pulled his head up, forcing the nearly  _ full _ bottle into his mouth and upping its contents down the bard’s throat. Beer dripped from the sides of jaskier’s mouth as he had no choice but to guzzle it down lest he choke. When it was empty the man threw it onto the grass and Jaskier hiccuped, wincing as it shook his aching body, then moaned and vomited onto the wooden stage which only made the men laugh more. Another man stumbled behind the bard and tugged at his small-clothes, almost pulling them down if it weren’t for jaskier’s protesting cries alerting Geralt.

“HEY!” He shouted, storming over to the pillory and grabbing the man’s ankles, throwing him to the ground. The other men, too scared to fight, stumbled and ran away. The man on the ground stood up, his face the very picture of a mouse caught by prey. He brought his hands up, signalling peace.

“Sorry, sir. We’s di’nt know he b’longed t’ you,” he slurred then stumbled away as Geralt watched him with a rage drawn expression.

He looked up at the supposed archer, who was asleep, and sighed as he climbed the stand and sat next to Jaskier, who was shaking and sobbing. He brought up a palm and held it to jaskier’s face and somehow, through the bard’s delirious mind, he understood that Geralt was here, he was safe.   
  


~*~

After that night they allowed Geralt to sit with him and provided a blanket for the bard, whose lips were blue with cold. They still refused to give him medicine so Geralt gave Jaskier the best he could, comforting him by rubbing his aching back and using his own bandages to wrap his ankles. He would sit by him during the day, wiping the sweat from his brow and rub his belly when he vomited up the bread, which  _ Geralt _ now fed him instead of having their captors force it down the bard’s throat.

On one frosty morning when the town square was bustling with market stalls, Jaskier shivering under the thin blanket, the man from the start of this ordeal, who Geralt later found out to be the mayor, stepped up to the stage. He eyed Geralt suspiciously and pulled a large ring of keys from his pocket, the loud chiming making Jaskier whine.

He used the keys on the pillory and harshly lifted it up, causing Jaskier to slump out of it but Geralt quickly caught him and gently pulled him into his lap.

“Two weeks are up, you may go.” The mayor said, then walked off the stage like nothing had ever happened. Of course, Geralt wasted no time at all in getting the bard to safety. He carried Jaskier to roach, carefully setting him atop and getting up behind him. 

He had already packed his valuables away, not wanting to stay here any longer than needed. They set off at a quick pace towards the forest surrounding the small town until Geralt couldn’t hear any more voices behind him, then he stopped them off in a clearing.

First, he laid out a bedroll, then he brought some supplies (bandages, water, a small pack of berries and a medicinal potion that would be safe enough for Jaskier to drink) and finally he placed Jaskier onto the bedroll, taking care around his ankles. He picked up a water skin and gently coaxed some down the bard’s throat, stroking it to help him swallow, which he did.

He moved closer, placing jaskier’s head onto his crossed knee. Picking up the pack of berries, he slowly fed them to Jaskier, waiting long enough in between to be sure he wouldn’t throw them back up. Once they were eaten he tipped the potion down his throat and got to work wrapping his ankles. 

He’d have to let him ride roach for a while until they healed. Until then, he’d wait. He’d always wait for Jaskier, no matter what. Even if it would take a million years for him to get better, Geralt would always be by his side.


End file.
